


Cashing In Is Harder Than It Looks

by PeacewithanS



Category: BioShock
Genre: M/M, Not sure if AU yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-01-24 04:30:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1591748
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeacewithanS/pseuds/PeacewithanS
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sinclair seeks to make a killing on the newest local celebrity: Johnny Topside.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Spinning Gold

In his last moments, Sinclair can’t help but recall when he first met his dearest--well, in the rarest practice of perfect honesty: his only friend. Both in Rapture and in his own sorry existence.

Johnny B. Topside. The kid had gained infamy through a dangerous brush of luck upon discovering the city during a deep sea dive. Danger always did well in the underwater city and he was welcomed with suspiciously open arms. The family adopted him and hailed him a hero. There were articles written about him, pictures, he was contacted for advertisements, for personal statements, you couldn't pick up a paper without seeing that mug of his within the first few weeks of his arrival.  
Which meant it wouldn’t be long before he was be noticed by “Mr. Rapture” himself.  
In the mean time, Sinclair who held all the charm of a wild dog at the prince’s arrival, made sure to snap up the money making morsel before any of these half-brained maniacs could cash in on his story.

“Listen, son…” Christ, no. He was not one who needed to remind others of his age. He cleared his throat and began again.

“Listen he-yah, sport.” A perfect hook. Comfortable enough to invite a newly forged kinship. Decent enough that he could let the newcomer suckle on the honey-dripped prospect of profit. Although he’d be sure to remind him who owned the hives when he was in need of more. “You're new to Rapture, I can tell.” He laughed to himself at the thought, anyone new to Rapture hardly had the time to breathe much less be greeted by the city. “You just stepped off the boat, so-tah speak.” The speech he was drawing out in front of the mirror was like spun gold. They ought to have called him Rumpelstiltskin the way he worked. “And I know these folk are just chompin’ at the bit for even a moment of your precious time, chief.” time was money, after all. “So let me offer you some…” He frowned. How would he seal the deal with this one? He was an artist- not in the same sense as Cohen in the way of his paint and theatrics per say, but he was an artist none the less. He just used a different media to display his… "art."

He sauntered over from his mirror beside the window. The hoo-has who’d decorated his office stated that to get the best look, you had to see yourself in both natural and unnatural light. Not that you could find anything “natural” besides the very apparent ocean life down in the city. Setting himself on the edge of the desk, he leaned onto his hip and pressed the intercom button. “Gladys.” he awaited a reply from his secretary. Gladys was a good old girl, older in her years but they wouldn’t seem to give him any more young women unfortunately. Most of them wouldn't put up with the odd errands and secretive demands Sinclair would often lay upon them. Too much strain on a young fillies’ back. In a way, he was grateful. Girls gossiped. Women, on the other hand… women simply judged. Sinclair mused that a boss and his secretary should never be alike a young couple. Too much give and take. Too much unnecessary friendliness. It had to be alike a marriage. Each one quietly keeping tallies on the other. Gladys never questioned so long as she received her cut of hush money. She could always extort him for more. Much like a true wife; and like a true wife, she had his respect.

“Yes, Mister Sinclair.”  
“I want you to arrange a meeting between me and the golden boy of Rapture.”  
“Anything else, sir?”  
“Pick me up a newspaper, and reserve a booth at the local diner.”  
“You want me to cancel your appointments?”  
“Just set them back two hours.”  
“I assume you want me to bring you a paper from Mr. Topside’s original arrival?”  
“Gladys, what would I do without you?”  
“Perish the thought, sir.” He laughed, and stepped off the desk, adjusting his tie in the mirror. He’d get a feel for the boy and see if he could squeeze at least a couple hundreds off his image. Nothing he hasn't done before. Sinclair began pouring himself a drink, whistling an upbeat tune.

Time was money, and the clock was ticking.


	2. Silver tongue, iron heart.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Breaking bread, sipping coffee. Sinclair hashes out the details of a deal with newcomer Johnny over eggs and toast.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still haven't found a beta reader- anyone who thinks themselves patient enough and willing to read through the initial chapters is welcome to message me directly about it. 
> 
> with that said, enjoy- and merry christmas!

“You hungry, chief?”

“Honestly, I’m starving.” The kid spoke quietly. Sinclair was surprised when the man was buzzed in to see him. The Johnny Topside article had made him look much more intimidating, with the lack of decent lighting. It wasn’t hard to understand why, when he compared the paper to the real deal. He’d come in haggard, oxygen deprived, and terrified. Who wouldn’t have, is the real question. He’d stumbled upon Ryan’s hidden pearl at the bottom of the sea while investigating a disappearing act. Here and now, sitting in a diner looking over a menu and swallowing air as his stomach growled, the kid looked about as threatening as a dog with no teeth.

Though he certainly had size- the boy’d been dragged through the thicket, but there was no doubt as to how he survived. He was tall and built from labor, it seemed. Now, Sinclair himself only knew a few types of laborers: those who slaved and those who worked. The kid looked like a worker, but looks could be deceiving. For all he knew from his soft spokenness his spirit could have been broken before he was even born.

“Well, eat up. I want to discuss some things with you, sport.” Sinclair smiled in that devious way of his. He was told it was charming- and more often than not it was followed up with the inevitable ‘Did you happen to have work done by Dr. Steinman?’. He always laughed it off, saying it was 100% Augustus Sinclair through and through.  
The boy nodded, looking back at the menu and turning it around, looking at every item available to him. He wasn’t much of a talker, it seemed. All the better for the profiteer. These calm and quiet types made it that much easier to get a leg up without having to strong arm anyone too much.

“So, Johnny.” He didn’t look up at first, seemingly not accustomed to his own name. “You’ve become quite the riot down in this here dome.”

“I suppose so.” His smile flickered on his face like someone turned on the lights and turned them right back out again. It was meek as could be, as though he felt the need to conform to a consistent set of manners that his body was far too fatigued to keep up with. Thankfully for their awkward small talk, the waitress had just arrived and saved them both the trouble of trying to carry on with another word.

“What can I get youse?” she smiled down at them through a cake of makeup. Sinclair gestured to Johnny to order first and the boy smiled at both him and the waitress.

“Ah, I’ll have water, then to eat…” he glanced down at the menu as if to make sure whatever he wanted was still there. “I’ll have a bacon burger with cheddar cheese, frienchfries…” Sinclair was about to speak up when the kid went on, turning the menu over. “Beg your pardon, but… You’re still serving breakfast, right?” the waitress nodded and he grinned. “Fantastic. Then I’ll have a side of fried eggs, sunny side up, toast with butter, and sausage.”  
The kid either had eyes bigger than his stomach or his gut was as bottomless as the trench Persephone was set above. He handed his menu over to her with a quiet thank you.

“And for you, Mr. Sinclair?”  
“Just a coffee.”

“That’s all?” Both the waitress and Johnny echoed his order.

“That’s all.” He muttered through closed lips as he pulled out a cigarette with his teeth.

“You can have some of my food.” The boy smiled much too genuinely, reaching over to flick Sinclair’s cuff. The man looked down at his hand where Johnny had touched him, cigarette unlit and dangling. God above, didn’t he know where he was? He gave a nod and smile back.

“Whatever you say-” He flicked his lighter a few times but not one spark would catch to produce a flame. He remembered refusing those plasmids based solely on the fact that he would be far too tempted to simply burn down one of his businesses for the insurance money. Not to mention he’d seen the men who assembled the kits- often working just to use the syringes themselves-he’d pass on that show pony, if it pleased the rest of rapture.

“Damned thing’s on the way out.”

“Allow me.” Johnny leaned over, extending his hands to shelter a flame from a matchbook he’d picked up from the hotel he was holed up in.

“My thanks. now then, sport, I wanted to talk to you about a business opportunity.” With nothing left to distract him Johnny focused all his attention into staring Sinclair straight in the eyes. He was much too honest for his own good in every damned aspect. He briefly worried that he’d be too good to get in on the job. “You’re going to need someone to keep you afloat,” He couldn’t help but chuckle at his own inlaid pun. “Especially in this town. Ryan may call it a utopia, but it’s no garden of Eden you see.” Johnny kept a stern eye on him. Completely unphased by his scare tactics. Sinclair had to hand it to him, the boy had more backbone to him than he thought.

But the thing with water was… it eroded even the biggest stone given enough time.

“Mr. Sinclair, I’d assume a sharp and shrewd man such as yourself…” well, turns out the boy had a tongue of silver as well. He could feel a pad of butter on Johnny’s words, to say the least. “wouldn’t come into a meeting without obvious intent.” He wiped a smudge off the napkin dispenser, his eyes focused on it’s reflective metal and his lashes creating a sort of blockade of expression. He couldn’t look him in the eye like this and he certainly couldn’t get a read off him when he acted so casual about the whole deal.  
Sinclair was taken by surprise when his eyes shot back to him and the boy remained still as a doe before a gun. 

“Preferably in writing.”

“You’re one who likes to get right down to the brass tack of things.”

“I try. Why waste time on pleasantries you don’t mean.” oh, a straight jab right to his pride. Sinclair could feel his face contort in both amusement and annoyance.

“Well, charm is the name of the game, you know. Especially if you wanna stay in business.”

“Charm is one thing, lying through your teeth is another.”

“Both are fairly effective, in my experience.”

“I’m sure you’re a man who has no trouble with getting his way, Mr. Sinclair.” Sinclair took a long drag of his cigarette and smiled. This kid wouldn’t last long- not with that high and mighty moral attitude of his, but he would make a nice ride as a pretty penny pony, that’s for sure.

“As a matter of fact, that’s right.”

“So perhaps you’d do us both a favor and not try to play me like a fiddle when you’ve got no bow.” His brow was furrowed and it was a long moment before Sinclair barked out a laugh. Johnny sat back, watching him carefully for whatever new angle he was going to pitch.

“Boy, you’re too much!” he took another long drag of the cigarette, expelling it and extinguishing his cigarette in the ashtray. the smoke wafted from it for a moment longer before Johnny snubbed it out more effectively. “Now, listen sport-” he looked back into his eyes. “when I say business I mean in the fairest of ways. I’d make you a partner, naturally. You’d have everything you deserve.”

“but naturally, Sinclair comes before Topside, right?”

“It does alphabetically.”

“I don’t care about names--”

“Could have fooled me.” The business man interjected.

“--but deserving doesn’t always mean righteous or honest.” Sinclair sighed. This kid was playing hardball for the keeps.

“Son, your sense of honest won’t mean much down here.” He leaned forward, brow furrowed but the kid wasn’t backing down. He mimicked Sinclair’s pose and spoke in an equally stern tone.

“Well, From what Andrew Ryan preaches--”

“When it comes to the gospel, sport, Ryan is one of those ‘do as I say, not as I do’ preachers, in case you haven’t noticed.” Sinclair looked at him with a hint of aged wisdom and annoyance. He’d come down here to make a profit off the prophet, so to speak but the way the kid spoke would get him killed before he could make a nickel. He was clever enough to find his way into rapture but he was as dull as the spoon Sinclair was now picking up to stir the cream and sugar into his coffee. The kid’s attitude did a complete turn around as the food was set down before him.

“Here ya go, sugar.” the food was laid out and took up nearly the entirety of the table. “be careful, plate’s hot.” she winked. she was no doubt skimming the water for tips but the kid didn’t even look up to see her efforts and her sugar-coated facade faltered.

“Thank you very much.” he nodded, grabbing his fork and knife and moving one of the eggs onto his burger. he pierced the yolk and set the bun back on, now cutting it in half for his own ease. The yolk poured out like molten gold and he stopped up the extra as he picked up one half. Sinclair’s coffee might have gone cold had the kid not stopped to offer him some food. “Have some sausage.” Johnny scooted the plate close to him, and Sinclair sighed, spearing the meat tube and taking a big bite. The food was subpar- it took ages to get some of these things in and a lot of the time it was sold under Ryan’s nose as opposed to his fish and bread bounty. “and toast, if you like.” Sinclair smiled.

“Kid, you’re setting to butter me up in more ways than one.” Johnny took a drink of water, smiling as he set it back down.

“And here I thought you only noticed your own flattery.” the boy winked. He was playing a dangerous game, talking out of the side of his mouth like that. Fontaine wouldn’t be happy seeing a copycat if he tried to take that show on the road. 

“Food’s meant to be shared.”

“I’m trying to get you in on this deal, sport, out of the goodness of my own heart.” Johnny nodded along, eyes flickering up to Sinclair every once in a while. “If you don’t wise up to someone’s game, they’ll pick their teeth with what’s left of you.” he cut the sausage, leaving small end behind while taking the largest portion for himself. It tasted just as bland as he predicted, but he washed it down with his coffee all the same.

“And I’ll assume you’ve got things in my best interest.”

“I’ve got my own interests in your best interests. I assumed we’d be able to see eye to eye on that.”

“Can I sleep on it?”

“I haven’t even made an offer yet.”

“oh, so this lunch was just a little courtesy, then? you didn’t have your secretary call me up and arrange a lunch at the local diner just to shoot the breeze, did you?” Sinclair sighed. He was like a wriggling fish just snacking on the bait instead of really biting down. “Because that would be a monumental waste of both our time.”

“Chief, you make it sound like all of rapture is out to garner your gold.”

“I just want you to be straight with me. Are you or are you not here to strike a deal.”

“Chief-”

“Yes or No.”

“Yes.”

“In that case, can I have a night to think on it.” Sinclair waved his hand.

“One night, you can tell me your answer over coffee tomorrow.” Sinclair relaxed and sipped his coffee, admiring the view of a whale wafting by the city’s lights.

“In the meantime, until tomorrow morning… and before i finish my meal…” he gestured slowly to his dwindling plates. “You can tell me about the deal you’re going to pitch me.” he took a gulp of water and waved down a waitress from across the room. “Tell me, Sinclair- do you have room for dessert?” the businessman laughed, settling now.

“Only if you’re paying.”

“You drive a hard bargain. Fair enough.”


End file.
